If only,
lies were all a mystery,
and truth was always history.
Wars were sold as fiction,
and compassion the daily news diction.
If only,
there was a currency of knowledge,
and an equation for peace.
Hunted treasures were lost souls,
and forgotten acts of kindnesses retold.
If only,
we fed on the power of sadness,
and dodged the dice of flattery.
We could imprison dogma,
and seize custody of dreams.
Perhaps,
only then
we could register the wonders,
of this radiant earth so gleam.
Subharthi Guha, 15th Sept 2017
